Chapter 2

The engine roared to life as the car pulled away, and I sat there, watching the streets blur past the window in reverse motion.

That gilded cage I'd been trapped in for five years was growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

There was a strange emptiness inside me, like something had been carved out, but oddly enough, I also felt a weight lift.

For the first time in a long while, I could finally breathe.

Laurel's apartment wasn't big—two bedrooms and a living room, but it was warm and full of life.

Art supplies spilled out of every corner, along with all kinds of quirky, whimsical knickknacks that screamed "Laurel."

And just like that, I moved in, the latest member of her unofficial "divorced women's shelter."

Life seemed to return to something resembling peace—until my body started acting strange.

I was constantly sleepy, nauseous, and every time I smelled cooking oil, I wanted to throw up.

At first, I blamed it on the emotional wreckage of the divorce.

But when my period was almost a month late, a terrifying thought hit me like a freight train.

I rushed to the pharmacy and bought every brand of pregnancy test I could get my hands on.

Then I locked myself in the tiny bathroom, heart pounding, and watched as those glaring red double lines stared back at me.

One stick, two, three—every single one said the same thing.

I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, my mind blank.

I was pregnant.

Right after signing the divorce papers and walking away from Frankie for good, life decided to slap me with the cruelest joke imaginable.

Laurel came home from work, took one look at my dazed face and the scattered pregnancy sticks all over the floor, and nearly popped a blood vessel.

"Holy shit. Eloise. You... hit the jackpot?"

She lunged forward, grabbing the tests and checking them again and again like she couldn't believe it.

"Whose is it? That bastard Frankie's? Was it before or after the divorce?"

I nodded slowly, still in a daze.

"Probably... the night before," I muttered.

The memory was hazy at best.

That night, Frankie had stumbled home drunk, reeking of some stranger's perfume.

Did he think I was someone else? Lesly? Or maybe just another woman entirely?

His touch had been rough, mechanical, like he was just checking off a box or trying to vent something he couldn't say.

And when he was done, he passed out without a word.

I stared at the ceiling in the dark until morning, humiliated and numb.

We just had one sex, and I got pregnant.

Laurel exploded like a firecracker on the spot.

"Fuck!Frankie is such a goddamn piece of shit! Absolute trash."

She grabbed her phone, already dialing.

"I'm calling him. He's gonna take responsibility."

"No." I lunged and snatched her phone away. "Laurel, don't."

"Why not?" she yelled, eyes wild. "He did this! He doesn't get to just walk away!"

I looked down at those blinding red lines on the floor, my heart tangled in knots.

"Take responsibility?" I let out a laugh that hurt more than crying. "What's he gonna do? Marry me again? Put me back in that living tomb and keep parading his mistress in front of me? Or maybe he'll toss me a check, like I'm some beggar, and try to buy this baby off me?"

Laurel fell silent, and I could see the calculation behind her eyes.

I knew Frankie and that smug witch Lesly; either option was entirely possible.

"So... you're thinking of ending it?" she asked, voice dropping into something almost too gentle.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.

There was a life there now, a tiny, fragile spark that was mine and mine alone.

In those five years with the Browning family, I used to dream of having a baby.

Maybe if I had a child, Frankie would finally look at me.

Maybe this house, this marriage, could've felt a little warmer.

But he always made sure we never got close.

He'd sneer and say, "Don't even think about trapping me with a baby, Eloise. You're not worth it."

And now, the baby neither of us planned for had chosen the worst possible moment to arrive.

"I don't know..." I curled up on the floor, burying my face in my knees, my voice muffled. "Laurel, I really don't know..."

I couldn't bear the thought of getting rid of it.

But I didn't know how I would manage to keep it.

I was newly divorced, broke, jobless... completely alone.

Laurel crouched beside me and wrapped me in the fiercest hug I'd ever known.

"Eloise, don't be scared," she said, her voice firm, unwavering. "You've got me. If you want to keep it, we'll keep it. It's just one more pair of chopsticks at the table. I'll be the godmother, and I'll love that kid like my own."

This time, the tears that came were warm.

In the darkest hour, she was the light I didn't know I needed.

"Laurel..."

"Quit crying already," she said gruffly, patting my back. "So? You made up your mind? Gonna have this baby?"

I lifted my head and wiped my face.

I looked at my reflection—pale, worn out, but still standing.

Then I looked down at my belly, and something faint and fragile stirred deep inside me.

"Yes." I nodded hard, like I needed to convince myself too. "Yes. I'll have it. I'll raise it on my own."

Laurel grinned wide and bright.

"Now that's what I'm talking about. A strong, independent woman of the new era. Screw that asshole. We'll raise this baby ourselves and drive them both insane."

She yanked me to my feet, her energy infectious.

"Come on! We're going to the hospital. Registration, checkups—the whole nine yards. Our baby girl—or hey, maybe a baby boy—is gonna be strong and healthy."